Scenes From A Love Story
by Alina-Cantha
Summary: They say you remember moments, as in this scenes from the story of two simple lovers. [SakuLee, poss. more?]
1. Finding Home

**Welcome to another fanfiction - fluff, pure and simple. Romance for the sake of romance, and the sake of SakuLee. Enjoy.**

**DISCLAIMER - I do not own, and never will own, Naruto, nor any of the characters. I only write about it.**

**Scenes From A Love Story**

_Scene 1: Finding Home_

Humming softly to himself, Lee rocked back and forth from foot to foot, waiting. The baby slept in the next room, nestled in her crib. Rain ran softly down the window, only masking the grey dimness outside. A flash of color caught his eye, making his heart leap. The sound of the door handle turning almost made his stomach flip completely. Almost running, he went to the door to meet her.

Weary, wounded, and wet, Sakura staggered in the door. As she blindly fell through the door, half-dead, it seemed, Lee caught her in strong arms. Exhausted - mentally and physically – she only rested her head on his chest, closing her eyes in relief.

"How was it?" he finally murmured, running one of his hands over her still-short wet hair. Usually his favorite shade of pink, it was now a dirty gray, soaking wet and covered in mud.

"Bad," she answered, voice muffled against him. "Bloody, dirty, long. Lonely."

"I know."

"You do." Her hands tightened on his back, bunching up handfuls of his green jumpsuit, clinging to him as if her life depended on it.

Noticing something odd, she stood back to look at him. "Why are you wearing my apron?" she asked tiredly.

Lee smiled and waved a hand towards the baby, still sleeping. "She likes the smell of it, I think," he explained.

"The smell?" she questioned, turning toward the baby's room.

"Yours, of course," he answered, wrapping his arms around her again from behind. A smile barely cracked her tired features. Shaking her head at her pink-aproned husband, Sakura grabbed his hands and spun away from him. Although the smile had been small, the light in her beautiful green eyes was coming back.

"I should go shower," she apologized, pointing to the wet marks she had left where she had pressed her body against Lee's.

"Take a nice long bath," he suggested. "I can take care of things for a little while longer."

"Ever the happy homemaker," she said dryly.

"It's your turn next week," he pointed out while a smile.

"Thank God." She smiled again – her small, tired smile – before reaching up to ruffle his hair, and then trudging to the bathroom.

After dinner, they all cuddled together on the bed. Sakura snuggled into Lee, resting her head on his chest again, the baby cradled in her arms. Clean and dry, all she wanted to do now was sleep. The debriefing mission was scheduled for tomorrow, but that wasn't important now. Lids drifted closed over green eyes. Sleepily, she muttered, "I can't believe you gave her a Mohawk."

"We had a good time," he said by way of explanation. "You know how much she loves her baths," he continued. "She looks good with it, and she smells a lot better." Playfully, he tweaked his wife's nose. "You don't have to hold your nose to hold her anymore," he finished, fondly playing with his infant daughter's small puff of soft pink hair, gelled into a small Mohawk during her earlier bath.

Sakura only laughed a little and dropped off to sleep – safe, warm, and loved. Home.


	2. Silent Gifts

**DISCLAIMER - I do not own, and never will own, Naruto, nor any of the characters. I only write about it.**

**A/N: Other pairings may be considered.**

**Scenes From A Love Story**

_Scene 2: Silent Gifts_

It all started with a single tiny yellow flower, one the color of the sun. A note and a single dandelion, waiting for her when she came in and sat at her desk in the mornings. It brightened her day, and she would keep them in a jar on her desk, a blue ribbon tied around the thick clear glass. The notes piled up, and she saved all of them – the little "XOXO,"s and the "Have a good day,"s. They were never signed, but she knew who they were from.

Eventually the single flower had become a bundle. Different, but she loved the flowers even more for it. At least he wasn't spending his money on "nicer" flowers. She liked dandelions just as much anyways, and it made her feel a little less guilty that she could not – or didn't want to – give _him _anything. In a way, it was the first strike against the little girl still hiding deep inside her, the one who rebelled at the plain sight of him. To her, the little bouquets meant that wherever he was, he was thinking of her and picking flowers for her. The jar she kept was jammed full of the bright yellow blossoms, tiny suns adding light to her day and a smile to her face.

Every so often she would have to pick out the dead or wilted blossoms, and she couldn't help but feel sad as she peered into the garbage can, seeing the faded brown flowers, drooping and alone in the trash.

Towards the end of the summer, most of the dandelions had gone to seed. The grey-white fluffy seeds floated around lazily in the air. It was hot that evening, she remembered. Hot, humid, and just generally unpleasant, the air felt like soup in her lungs.

She'd actually seen him that night, or maybe he had wanted to be seen. Smiling shyly, he'd come up to her desk at the hospital, green stems clutched in one wrapped fist.

"Thank you for the flowers," she had started, speaking of the daily gifts.

"These?" he had asked, looking at the gray puffballs in his hand. "These ones aren't flowers. They're wishes."

She smiled widely as he held the fluffy blossoms out to her, and then went slack-jawed. "How many do you have there?" she asked him, amazed.

"As many as my heart and hands could hold," he told her with a sparkling smile.

"Let's make a wish together," she had said, grabbing his hand and running outside to the dimming sunshine. He had followed after, smiling, just because she was.

"Here." He gave her a dandelion and took one in his own hand. Counting together, they both squeezed their eyes shut and blew the seeds off into the damp hot wind. With closed eyes, Sakura remembered, she had wished for…well, she remembered.

She had opened her eyes first, and boldly, she had stepped up to him. Softly, she touched her lips to his. His eyes snapped open for a moment before easing back into it, and letting himself sink back into the kiss. "My wish…" she started.

"Don't tell me," he told her quickly. "If you tell me, it won't come true!"

"It already did," she murmured. "You know how it is. You just have to step up and make your dreams come true."

All Lee could do was smile.


	3. Picture Book Perfect

Climbing into bed, Sakura quickly pressed her body against Lee's, seeking his warmth. His skin was hot against hers, but even the thickest clothing couldn't warm her. He restlessly stirred in his sleep, and she loosened her grip. Turning away from him, she put her back against his. Sakura loved the feeling of them touching, even though the material of their nightclothes was between them. She wasn't sure what she liked about it so much – the warmth, the comfort, the feel of someone at her back. The illusion that they wouldn't leave her, maybe? In the darkness of their shared bedroom, the bright digits of the alarm clock burned into her eyes. 12:45 am. An eternity later, 12:46.

The dim red light glinted off the silver band around her finger. Red and silver, red and black. Sharingan spinning. A purple and orange haze, creeping seals, and a strident cry. No. She slammed her eyes shut, stopping the stream of images. His face still floated in her mind's eye. She had loved him when she was younger, or rather, the appearance of him. She had adored the dark hair and eyes, the careless posture, the small slick smile.

Now here she was, older, stronger, wiser, and engaged to youth and exuberance incarnated. Practically Sasuke's opposite. And she loved him for it.

Lee had been there when she needed a shoulder to cry on – or sometimes to cry _with_, and had brightened her day. It was incredibly rare for him to not be able to draw a smile out of her, however small, although he did know when to keep himself to himself. Tact was what it was, and it was what experience and maturity had taught _him_, at least. Sure, he got too enthusiastic at times, but it was a normal part of life.

If her childhood dream of a picture book wedding and Uchiha Sakura would have happened… But it wouldn't have happened, it couldn't have. There never was and never could be picture book perfect with Sasuke. He would never show up in a fancy suit, gently take her hand, and confess that he'd loved her all along. He would never be the metaphorical handsome prince, rescuing her from the jaws of fate. Uchiha Sasuke would never be any of these things.

Maybe, she thought, just maybe Lee could. She smiled a little as she lay curled up in her sheets, back resting along his. Sakura could see him doing that, as a surprise maybe. She wouldn't be surprised – he would do anything for her.

That was what troubled her. He _would _do almost anything in the world for her, and she didn't know _why. _All these years, she thought. All these years, and I still don't know what love is. She knew that she loved him, of course. Otherwise she never would have agreed to get married to him. It would have broken his heart, not to mention her own. That was the problem – that she knew how to love, and that she did love, but she did not know it.

The idea hit her quickly, almost like lightning. Did it matter? Did it truly matter if she knew what love _was?_

She loved and _was_ loved. That was enough.

Sakura turned back towards Lee, cuddling up tight against him. Resting her cheek against his, she quietly murmured, "I love you," into the darkness. Three simple words, words that she'd said before, words that she probably hadn't meant. Now, at this time, in this darkness, they meant more to her than anything ever had. Softly, tears dripped off of her face and onto him. She laughed a little, a soft sound. She didn't even know why she was crying, really.

"I love you too," he whispered back, his hand grasping hers. It surprised her; she'd thought he wasn't awake. He wasn't though, and he quickly lapsed back into dreams. In an odd manner, it comforted her. Even in his dreams, Lee dreamed of her.

She slept then, draped over her lover, cheek to cheek, and hand touching hand. A smile remained on her face throughout the night.

The next morning when Lee awoke, tears had dried on his face - tears that weren't his.


End file.
